For Dean
by Socrates7727
Summary: Something about the human inspired Castiel. His strength, his defiance, but also the way he looked when he just shattered. But Castiel wasn't going to let Dean's memories of Hell be the thing that holds him back. If anything holds him, it's going to be Castiel. Destiel!


"We have no choice." Dean snorted at him, obviously upset. Honestly, though why did he care? It was a town of strangers, of nobodies, that wouldn't have been missed and yet he was so riled up it was as if Castiel was there to smite him personally. He understood that humans were emotional, and unpredictable because of it, but he didn't understand Dean. Didn't understand that blazing loyalty to people he'd never even met.

"Of course you have a choice!" Dean snapped, narrowing his eyes. "I mean, come on, what? You've never questioned a crap order, huh? What are you both, just a couple of hammers?" Dean would've been the one to know about following orders, if anyone did. But why was he being so defiant? Castiel tried to reason with him, to make him understand that they had no choice, but again he just argued and fought. There was so much fight in the man….

"Look, even if you can't understand it, have faith. The plan is just." Dean's eyes flared at his words, but he didn't understand why. The plan was just. Heaven's plan was always just, that was why they followed it so closely.

"How can you even say that?!" Sam was outraged too, but in a more distant way. Castiel didn't really care why Sam was upset-he didn't understand or know Sam and he didn't plan to. But Dean's face was slowly filling with something other than anger that Castiel really didn't like, even though it was clearly unique to humans. Disappointment. And bitterness.

"Because," he tried again. "It comes from heaven, that makes it just." Sam gawked at him like an unpleasant looking fish. Castiel could feel Uriel becoming irritated with how long this was taking but he'd insisted on it, so he was going to finish it.

"Oh, it must be nice. To be so sure of yourselves." The sneer on Dean's face when he said it made Cas feel something in his gut. It was like his human organs were churning, though he knew that didn't make any sense for a vessel, and it felt strangely human. It put him on edge, just enough to snap back.

"Tell me something, Dean, when your father gave you an order, didn't you obey?" Immediately, Dean's face darkened and his eyes slipped back into nothingness. Castiel wouldn't have gone so far as to say he regretted putting that look there-angels didn't feel regret, he reassured himself-but it did made him hesitant and hold back another remark. Dean's jaw clenched, very clearly. Castiel thought he knew Dean, that Dean would understand better than anyone, but he didn't. He knew he shouldn't, but he listened briefly for Dean's voice. For the thoughts racing through the human's head. _Who the hell is Cas to talk about Dad? He's right, but… No, he's wrong because he didn't prove anything, let alone his point. I obeyed, but that never made any of it just. Using kids as bait wasn't just. Massacring families because they had the slightest bit of vampire lineage wasn't just. Obeying didn't make it right._ Castiel twisted his face with thought, curious but not angry. Those things had been necessary, he had no doubt, and yet Dean still called them unjust? What kind of logic was that? But Dean had also called him Cas. Dean gave him a nickname in his own head? Cas… He liked that.

"Well sorry boys, looks like the plans have changed." Cas startled at Dean's actual voice, much louder than the one in his head. There was ice in his words now.

"You think you can stop us?" Uriel had a point. They were human, even if they were hunters, and not much could stand in the way of an angel let alone one like Uriel. Enforcers were not something to be trifled with. But Derek's mouth quirked up in a little half smirk, staring right into the enforcer's eyes like he was fearless. Perhaps that was what hell did to a human.

"No, but if you're gonna smite this whole town, then you're gonna have to smite us with it. Because we are _not_ leaving." Dean was so sure of himself, even without the guidance of Heaven. "See, you went to the trouble of busting me out of hell. I figure I'm worth something to the man upstairs." So casual, would it have killed him to say the Lord? God was not some bum on a sidewalk, he was the creator of life!

"So you wanna waste me? Go ahead." It was a challenge. Cas admired the darkening of Dean's eyes, the widening of his pupils, the steadiness of his heartrate. Even against Uriel, Dean didn't waver. Dean stood straight, in Uriel's face, and set his jaw with determination-he meant every word, daring Uriel to kill him right there. "See how he digs that." Again, the way Dean spoke of the Lord was so informal, so humanizing, that Cas was unsettled. But he couldn't say that he didn't like it.

"I will drag you out of here myself." Cas had watched Dean long enough to predict how he would react when threatened. He raised his hand to ready a ward for when Dean rushed at them, or at least Uriel, swinging with fire in his eyes but he didn't. Dean just stood there, barely blinking.

"Yeah, but you'll have to kill me, then we're back to the same problem." Such confidence! And in himself, in his own words, not in the message or work of a higher power. Cas didn't understand it, but he admired it.

"I mean, come on," Dean continued, a familiar jeer to his tone now. "You're gonna wipe out a whole town for one little witch? Sounds to me like you're compensating for something." Uriel just stared, not understanding the innuendo, but Cas understood it and noted Dean's small smile. Laughing at his own joke. But then Dean turned back to him, eyes still seering with negative emotion.

"We can do this. We will find that witch and we will stop the summoning." So confident. His emerald eyes were on fire with emotion but, strangely, it only seemed to make him more confident. Emotion blinded, Cas knew, but Dean seemed to thrive on it.

"Castiel!" Already, he knew what Uriel was going to say, to protest. "I will not let these peop–" Cas cut him off, holding up his hand for silence. He didn't look away from Dean. From the human man standing in front of him, bursting with indignation and anger, so confident in himself.

"Enough!" Uriel hissed at him, angry. It wasn't his place to tell Uriel what to do but Dean was his charge. He knew Dean. Dean, who was so sure of himself he stood up to an angel enforcer. Dean, who channeled his anger into his fists and drank until he couldn't remember what he was trying to forget. Dean, the human, who called him Cas.

"I suggest you move quickly."

That night, after dealing with Uriel, Cas made it a point to appear outside the Winchester's hotel room. Sam was across town interviewing the professor over dinner. Dean smelled like whiskey from the other side of the door. Cas didn't knock, he just walked through the door until he heard Dean's breathing change.

"Jesus Christ Cas! You could at least give me a heads up before you just fucking appear! What if I was naked or something!?" Cas didn't understand.

"You're always naked, Dean. Your soul can't be hidden by skin or cloth." Dean just rolled his eyes. Was there something wrong with natural human skin?

"Forget it. What do you want?" Cas stepped closer, only a few inches from Dean now, who grew warm for some reason. He seemed aggravated, nervous maybe?

"I am sorry about Uriel. He doesn't believe that you're different." Dean downed another fifth of his whisky, but didn't move away. The human glared, but not at him-at the world. He was angry at the world. Was he still angry that Cas saved him?

"What do you mean different? Not some demon shit like Sam got caught up in, I hope." Dean was so crass, but it was almost refreshing in contrast to the way the angels spoke. But Dean sounded genuinely confused. Did he not understand that he was different? Or was it that he still didn't want to be different?

"Dean," It was time to tell him the truth. "This was a test. To see how you'd perform under… battlefield conditions." The anger that rushed into Dean's face was something Cas couldn't have braced himself for. But he didn't let himself disappear the way he wanted to.

"I get it. So, I failed your little test. You gonna smite me for it?" It was so close to the way he'd spoken to Uriel that Cas almost frowned. Could Dean not see how different they were? Even the threat of sending him back to hell was just empty words, while Uriel's were never empty. There was a difference. He had to know that, didn't he?

"You failed their test, yes. But not mine." That was the right way to put it-Cas had practiced saying it, making sure that nothing he said could be misconstrued by human metaphors or double meanings. "I prayed that you would save these people. Standing up to Uriel was stupid, but it confirmed what I thought."

"What you thought?"

"I saved you, Dean. The Lord didn't tell me too-he was silent, like all the others. But I watched you in Hell. I watched you struggle, and I watched you fight no matter what they did to you. That kind of strength was something I'd never seen before. I pulled you out, without being told to. Because I thought you were worth saving. And you are." Dean stared at him, hesitating, just for a minute.

"You did it by yourself? Why?" But the genuine confusion in Dean's voice made Cas smile.

"Didn't you hear me? Because you are worth saving, Dean Winchester. You _are_ worth saving." Cas couldn't help it. He had to emphasize that word, had to make his voice low enough for Dean to focus on it and believe it. He couldn't hear that question in the man's voice… Not after what he'd seen Dean go through. Something pushed him to say it again, even stronger with more emphasis, because he liked the way Dean's face softened with a hint of hope and disbelief. Because he remembered how badly it felt to watch Dean toss back cheap liquor. Trying to forget. He remembered how much he hated seeing Dean's face pinch and twist with pain, first at the burn from the alcohol and then from the bite of silver against his wrist. Cas didn't cry-angels couldn't cry-but for the first time in his existence he understood the desire to.

"You are worth saving, Dean," he repeated. He hoped that the significance of what he was saying hit Dean in full. He doubted, but he hoped.

"You come here for a reason or just to be annoying?" Cas hated that he couldn't help himself. Urges were human… not heavenly. It felt like the doubt that crept into his mind whenever he didn't like his orders. Like the anger when Uriel called Dean a weakness. Like the twinge of admiration and respect when he watched Dean choose, over and over again, the one option that fit his moral compass. Usually, the one that involved self sacrifice. But, regardless of how weirdly unangelic he felt, he couldn't help it-couldn't stop himself from stepping forward and reaching out to cup Dean's face. Dean started, flinching, but he stopped himself.

"Cas what the hell…?" Until Dean trailed off, just staring at him. He let himself touch the soft, warm flesh of Dean's cheek and revel in it, in how human it was. Slowly, he ran his thumb beneath one of those gorgeous, bottle green eyes, tracing along the hollow of the bones underneath. It was so strange to him, the idea of a body being significant. Until very recently he'd only ever even considered looking at true forms-Dean's was scarred and beautiful, he knew-but the more time he spent with humans the more he saw what they saw: their bodies. Their green eyes. Their blonde hair. Their skin, scarred in the exact print of his hand. But no, he stopped himself, those weren't _theirs_ , those were Dean's. Just Dean's.

"Cas, what are you doing?" Cas decided that the way Dean's heartbeat jumped every time he moved his thumb against his skin wasn't bad. He looked down, staring into those familiar, human eyes. They looked even more beautiful with the sudden tears in them, because he knew that he was the only one Dean would have ever let witness something like that.

"You are worth saving, Dean Winchester." His voice was hard, determined not to let Dean argue. But the way Dean just deflated at his words, sinking into his touch and letting the tears fall, made it seem much too harsh. He regretted it. As an apology, he stepped a bit closer and placed his other hand on the other cheek. Slowly, he lifted Dean's face to look at him. The man's eyes were squeezed shut, as if trying to barricade against the tears slipping out and rolling down his face, but Cas didn't tell him to open them. Instead, he waited, just slowly running his fingers to trace the bags under his charge's eyes. Until Dean opened his eyes on his own.

"Ca-Cas… I-" Dean sounded weaker than he ever had in hell. Had he hurt the man? Did he really have that much power, to take the fight out of this man that even hell itself hadn't been able to break?

"Dean." Those bottle green eyes finally met his own, pleading for something he couldn't understand. He liked it, though. Because there were no green whiskey bottles, or green bourbon bottles, or green vodka bottles. Even Dean's eyes didn't think he fit with cheap liquor and drunken desperation, at least not for the sake of escaping.

"Dean. Michael. Winchester." With his focus so intently on Dean's physical characteristics, Cas realized that Dean was not wearing a shirt. It didn't seem weird or unnatural, but Cas still wasn't up to date with human customs and certain kinds of clothing meaning different things. But it did mean that the bright, permanently blistered scar on Dean's shoulder was visible.

"Dean," He moved towards it. "Michael," His palm touched Dena's skin. "Winchester." It fit exactly. Of course it did, it was his handprint after all, but Cas still found himself surprised at how perfect it was. Dean breathed, his entire frame shaking with every exhale. Cas pressed, gently at first and then a little harder, making sure Dean could feel his hand and how perfectly it fit. How hard he'd worked to save him.

"I watched you every day in hell," His voice was barely above a whisper, drinking in the way Dean steadied at the sound of his voice. "I see every scar on your soul, every mark that they left. I watched you break, Dean. But, listen to me, it was not your fault. Angels ten times your strength broke faster than you did. _Angels_." But Dean snorted and started to pull away from him, clearly angry now. He knew Dean didn't like to talk about hell, but it was necessary. He couldn't watch another night of this.

" _I_ broke faster than you did, Dean." At that, Dean did stop. He was frozen in place, pausing the breakdown happening within his own skin just long enough to gape at Cas. The thought was clear on his face. Angels, sure, but Cas? Tortured in hell?

"I disobeyed an order, that was my punishment. Alastair told me I had potential, gave the the same choice he gave you, and I took it. After a month. Not two, not three-one. I'm thousands of years old and I'm not human, but I broke faster than you did. You know exactly what happened down there. Are you going to call me weak, a coward? Or are those words something you reserve for yourself?" Dean flinched, but Cas didn't let himself hate it. This was necessary. Even if it hurt Dean in the moment, it was necessary.

"You were…?" Cas nodded, wiping away more tears from Dean's beautiful face.

"You are flawed, you are human. I don't have an excuse-I'm supposed to be like stone-but I broke too. Faster, even. So go ahead, call me all those things you call yourself when Sam's gone and you've been drinking to much. But if you can't? Then you can't say them to yourself anymore either." Dean just stared at him. And, suddenly, he was down on the bed, clinging to the shaking human in his arms as tightly as Dean clung to him. He was so desperate, so needy. The kind of needy that Dean would have never let another human being see. But Cas wasn't a human being. I

"Cas…" It wasn't a question or a request. For the first time in his existence, Cas thought he might actually understand a hidden meaning in the human's language. His name was more than just his name when Dean said it that way, ghosting over the syllables. His name was more, when it came from Dean. Sometimes, it was a hope or a plea. Other times it was with a sigh, or like a prayer. Sometimes it actually was a prayer. Dean seemed to think that Cas never heard his prayers, just because he wasn't allowed to answer. He hated when he couldn't answer. But he heard them all, though, especially the ones that sounded like whiskey and darkness and pain. But today? Today it was a thank you of relief.

"For you, Dean? Anything."


End file.
